THE QUEEN

Elizabeth stepped forward out of the train that had just arrived in London, and for a moment went still on the platform. Beside her, her granddaughter Nina – young, brave and impatient.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and breathed in, as if the city’s beauty might come to her on the air. Damp buildings, tea with milk, pastries from the nearest bakery, the dampness of the Thames, and the iron rails of the Underground. London smelled familiar, yet completely different. She was silent for a few seconds while bright memories flashed in her mind like photographs – those she had kept all her life, so carefully, as if they were fragile crystal.

‘Gran, we’ve finally arrived!’ Nina touched her hand. ‘I’ve dreamed for so long of coming here with you. To the city where you were young… where you met Grandad.’

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked at her granddaughter with a smile – gentle and sincere, but edged with tiredness.

‘I have, too – I’ve long dreamed of coming back,’ she said quietly and tucked behind her ear a grey strand of hair that had come loose from a carelessly twisted bun.

‘Come on, quicker,’ Nina laughed impatiently. ‘The settling into halls hasn’t started yet, and that means… means we have time to enjoy the city. You will show me the sights, your favourite places, and everything you once loved!’

Elizabeth said nothing. She only looked at her granddaughter with her green eyes and smiled again. In Nina she saw herself – at seventeen, a thin girl with a small suitcase and a great hope of finding herself in this city.

Back then she had come to London to build a better life. To save her mother and two younger sisters from hunger. She finished sewing classes, got a job in a small atelier and helped the owner keep the business afloat. That was where she met Henry – her future husband. They got married and went to his homeland. And London stayed behind – like a page already read.

Nina ran ahead, pulling Elizabeth by the hand, as if she was afraid the city might disappear if she slowed down. She was overflowing with emotion, and Elizabeth… Elizabeth did not fully understand what was happening to her. This narrow street from her youth hit her so hard with memory that she had to stop and draw in air.

Shop windows, neon signs, brick façades, street noise, cobbles underfoot – everything was so familiar…

‘Gran… where to next?’ Nina stopped and looked around in confusion.

Tears glinted in the corners of Elizabeth’s eyes – not from despair, from happiness. Her voice grew quieter, as if she was afraid of waking the past.

‘Round the corner…’ she drew it out. ‘Back then it was called “The Bennetts’ Sewing Workshop”. But I’m not sure it still exists. When I was leaving… the owner was looking for a buyer. I think there’s not even a trace left.’

But those words didn’t stop Nina. She ran on – faster, even faster – until she reached the right place. In front of her, large panoramic windows opened up. Inside – bright threads, multicoloured rolls of fabric, the gleam of buttons and notions. Nina slowly lifted her head and read the name on the sign.

Elizabeth hurried after her – and from excitement the world around swayed. Turning the corner, she saw her granddaughter at the entrance. Nina stood motionless, as if something inside her had snapped. Elizabeth tried to read the name of the shop, but her poor eyesight betrayed her. The letters blurred, like rain on glass. She came closer and saw disappointment on Nina’s face.

‘There’s no “Bennetts’ Sewing Workshop” any more,’ Nina said and turned to her grandmother. ‘Now it’s a fabric shop called “The Queen”.’

That word struck Elizabeth in the chest. Her breath caught. Her heart tightened as if someone was holding it in their hand. Her hands nervously worked the strap of her bag. She looked at Nina and could not utter a single word.

‘Listen, Gran…’ Nina recovered quickly. ‘I think we still have to go in anyway.’ And she pulled the door towards her. A bright little bell broke the silence inside and made the shop assistant break off from his work.

Elizabeth wanted to say something, but only incomprehensible broken sounds burst from her mouth, which did not resemble any word. Still, she stepped over the threshold. Touched the wooden doorframe with her hand – and froze. That wood was familiar. Tactile memory turned out to be sharper than sight.

‘Welcome to “The Queen”,’ came a man’s voice – low, aged, but… very pleasant.

A tall grey-haired man appeared in front of Nina. Beard and hair – like ash. He wore a burgundy jacket, and on his chest “The Queen” was embroidered in gold thread. Elizabeth recognised that voice. She could not take a step. She pressed her back to the door, as if it could hide her from what was coming, like a wave.

‘What sort of fabric are you choosing?’ the man asked.

Nina touched a roll of green silk, breathed in its smell and said quietly:

‘Once… many years ago… there was “Bennetts’ Sewing Workshop” here.’

The man furrowed his brow.

‘Yes, there was. It belonged to my father.’

Nina lit up.

‘Then you may know my grandmother. She worked here.’

The smile vanished sharply from the man’s face.

‘Elizabeth?..’ burst out of him.

‘Yes. Elizabeth,’ Nina confirmed and glanced back.

‘Gran, come here… why are you standing by the entrance?’

The man narrowed his eyes. With his poor eyesight, he could only see a silhouette. His hands trembled as he reached for the table for his glasses. Sweat appeared on his forehead. He put on his glasses and looked again. Now he saw clearly. It was her.

‘Queen…’ he whispered so softly, as if he was afraid to frighten her.

Elizabeth’s lips went dry. She pressed her palm to her heart – as if she was afraid it would leap out of her chest at any moment.

‘Queen…’ he repeated. And his eyes shone.

Nina ran up to her grandmother.

‘It seems he knows you…’ she carefully took Elizabeth by the hand and led her to the man.

Elizabeth walked with unsteady slow steps, not taking her eyes off the grey face.

‘Oliver…’ she said. ‘Forty-five years…’

Oliver awkwardly adjusted his jacket, as if he had suddenly become a boy.

‘Forty-five years, seven months, and…’ he glanced at the calendar on the wall, ‘twelve days.’

Elizabeth smiled shyly and automatically tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the way she used to in her youth.

‘This is my granddaughter Nina,’ she said. ‘She got into Oxford, the history faculty.’

‘And this…’ Elizabeth stopped. ‘This is Oliver… my old acquaintance. I worked in his father’s workshop.’

‘Very pleased,’ Nina held out her hand.

Oliver finally tore his gaze away from Elizabeth, as if it was physically hard, and shook Nina’s palm.

‘And I am. You are just as beautiful as your grandmother.’

Elizabeth, embarrassed, again tucked her hair behind her ear. Her bun barely held, falling apart from her nervous movements. Her cheeks burned, like a girl who had fallen in love for the first time.

Nina moved her gaze from her grandmother to Oliver.

‘And why… “The Queen”? Why did you call Gran that?’

Oliver burst out laughing.

‘Did your grandmother not tell you?’

‘Don’t, Oliver,’ Elizabeth asked quietly.

‘Do!’ Nina smiled. ‘I’m very curious.’

Oliver took off his glasses, put them on the table. Then he carefully took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. His neck and forehead glistened with sweat. Not because it was hot, because he was nervous.

‘When Elizabeth came to my father to ask for work… the workshop was barely holding on. There were almost no clients, debts were choking us, father talked about selling every day. But he took pity on the girl with big green eyes and took her on for a miserable wage.’

Elizabeth took a handkerchief from her bag and wiped away the tears that treacherously, without permission, had come to her eyes.

‘One day,’ Oliver continued, ‘she said: “I will save the workshop. I will find us new clients.” She went out into the street… and started telling passers-by that Queen Elizabeth herself had ordered an outfit from us.’

Nina laughed, bright, from the heart… Her laughter was taken up by Elizabeth and Oliver.

‘And did it work?’ Nina asked through laughter.

‘Of course not,’ Oliver waved a hand. ‘But from that day my father and I started calling her “Queen”.’

Nina looked at her grandmother. She stood shyly with the damp handkerchief in her hands and did not take her eyes off Oliver. Her hair had completely come undone, her cheeks were burning, and she looked as if she were seventeen again.

Nina said quietly, almost in a whisper:

‘I saw a café not far away. I’ll go… And you… you’ll catch up. All right?’

And without waiting for an answer, she slipped out through the door. The little bell jingled once more – and fell silent.

Elizabeth and Oliver did not avert their eyes. They looked at one another just as they had then – forty-five years ago..

‘Is it really you?’ Oliver whispered.

‘It’s me…’ Elizabeth answered barely audibly.

He snatched at the air in short ragged breaths, as if he was afraid that if he breathed in deeper – she would vanish.

‘I waited… I waited all this time…’

‘Really?’ Elizabeth did not believe her own ears. Her voice trembled. Oliver nodded.

‘You promised then that you would come back. And I believed.’ A tear rolled down his cheek.

‘After Father’s death the workshop passed to me – along with the debts. Not knowing how to sew…’ he smiled bitterly. ‘I turned it into a shop of fabrics and notions. And since then every day… every blessed day I waited.’

Elizabeth shuddered and wept aloud. Tears broke out like an old pain that had been kept under lock.

‘Then, when Henry took you away…’ Oliver lowered his eyes. ‘I hated him. ‘And only with time did I understand that I came to hate myself for my indecision.’

Elizabeth wept even harder.

‘I would never have been happy with you,’ burst out of her through tears. ‘Because I dreamed of a completely different life. And Henry gave me that life. He had a car… inheritances… opportunities. And all you had,’ – bloody calluses on your hands from the work you had to go to, to buy me flowers and chocolate. I felt guilty about it.’

Oliver slowly turned his palms upwards and showed hardened skin, old scars and calluses. ‘These calluses stayed with me forever,’ he said quietly. ‘As a reminder of the happiest times. Strange, isn’t it?’

Suddenly something outside began to knock loudly on the windows. Elizabeth was frightened, her heart jumped to her throat.

‘It’s raining,’ Oliver said calmly. ‘It’s just London rain.’

Elizabeth wiped away her tears.

‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘Nina is waiting.’

Oliver smiled faintly.

‘Running away again.’

Elizabeth was trembling from the emotions overflowing her, but she said nothing. With quick steps she headed for the exit.

‘Promise you’ll come back again!’ he shouted.

Elizabeth stopped.

‘I can’t,’ she said and slowly turned. ‘I… I have no right. This is the last time we’ll see each other.’ and she was already reaching for the door handle.

‘Just promise,’ he shouted again, and his voice trembled. ‘Faith that I will see you one day will give me the strength to live on.’

Elizabeth slowly turned back to Oliver. And looked at him with green eyes.

‘Before I left… I waited for you all night at our place. But you never came.’

Oliver sharply took a step forward.

‘I was there!’ he shouted. ‘That time I, as always, came… with flowers and cheap chocolate. But…’ his voice broke. ‘I didn’t dare to come up. I knew I wouldn’t be able to give you the life you dream of. So I stayed in the shadows. And I had no strength to come up. I blamed myself all my life for never daring…’

Elizabeth ran up and gently touched his lips with her palm. As if she wanted to stop not only the words, but also the pain that was tearing him from within.

‘Don’t…’ she whispered. ‘Nothing can be changed now…’

Oliver took her by the elbows – carefully, as if she were something fragile. and looked into her eyes.

‘And you know…’ he said quietly. ‘Better run away from here. Because I still have nothing to my name, except this shop, which, just like Father’s workshop, is drowning in debts. So it’s better you go…’ And he let her go.

Elizabeth took a few steps to the door and stopped.

‘Goodbye, Oliver…’ this time – for ever.

She slipped out of the shop straight into the rain. Into that same rain she used to love so much. And suddenly she remembered what exactly for: in the rain you can’t see tears.

Passers-by with umbrellas who walked past shoved her with their shoulders, as if they did not notice her. And then Elizabeth understood: she no longer loves London. The city became strange, not because it had changed, but because she had changed. It isn’t cities that change, it’s people. Several times Elizabeth wanted to look back. One last time to look at Oliver. But she held herself back. To look back meant to take a step back. And she had never lived in the past, and did not want to give Oliver false hopes.

And Oliver stood by the window and saw her off with his gaze – just as forty-five years ago. In that moment he wanted one thing most of all: for her to look back. To understand – those years of waiting had not been in vain. But his only love was moving away with every step, and again he could do nothing about it. Yet this time Oliver realised something else: with time people change only on the outside. But when a choice arises – even after decades, they still choose the same. He switched off the light in the shop, closed the curtain on the window. The bell jingled one last time as he stepped over the threshold, hung up the “FOR SALE” sign, adjusted his burgundy jacket, and looked back…

Looked back to put the full stop he should have put forty-five years ago.